


Into the Woods

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>and he drew me close<br/>and he swallowed me down--</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> for _anyone can whistle: a joey challenge_. thanks to kirsch and alex for reading it over for me. This fic depicts an unhealthy relationship and some mild violence.

_and he drew me close  
and he swallowed me down--_

Joey knew it was a bad idea from the first time Justin came rushing up to him, bright-eyed and red-cheeked, his lips swollen.

"Nick, Nick Carter!" Justin yelped and Joey's fists clenched immediately.

"What did the fuck did he do, I'll kill him--"

"He kissed me, Joey, he kissed me." Justin looked frantic, but Joey couldn't tell if it was a good or bad frantic.

"Justin?" he prompted.

"He's so cute, isn't he, Joey?" Justin said and Joey sighed and nodded. Nick was cute, if you liked them big. Which Joey admittedly did.

Justin was sixteen then, and Joey figured it for a passing thing. A crush, an infatuation. Justin had a lot of those at that age and it was more than natural. But the "Nick thing", as he called it to himself, didn't just go away, and Joey started to worry when Nick showed up at Justin's eighteenth birthday party and the two of them left together. Nick had turned 18 three days before and the two of them looked like they were off to a hotel room or something.

"Joey," Chris said, a week later, "I'm worried about our young Justin."

"You are, huh?" Joey snorted and shoved Chris off of his lap, where Chris had dropped himself inelegantly. Chris, predictably, ended up on the floor.

"Fucking asswipe," Chris swore.

Joey smiled ingenuously at him and picked up the book he'd set down a moment before. "You were saying?" he asked as he put his bookmark in place.

"Justin. And Nick. It's not. I mean."

"It's not what?" Joey said placidly. Not that he figured Chris had any different feelings about it than he did, but he wanted to hear Chris's opinion.

"I don't know. It's kinda bugging me. I mean, it's not like they're boyfriends, right? But they fuck all the time."

"All the time?" Joey arched an eyebrow. He'd thought Justin's birthday was the first time.

"Yeah, and-- Oh." Chris gave him a surprised glance. "I thought you knew."

Joey looked down at the dogeared book and was glad he didn't blush easily. "I guess I wasn't paying attention. So, yeah. They're fucking," he prompted.

"Right, and Justin's like totally gone on him. But Nick, there's something kind of, I don't know. Cold about him."

Joey nodded. "Yeah, I get that." It wasn't like Nick wasn't friendly to them, because he was. But he definitely had a certain level of coolness; he didn't joke too much with them. Joey had always just figured it was because they just weren't his guys.

Chris shook his head and then dropped it on Joey's knee. "I don't know. I mean it's not like it cuts into the time I spend with him or anything, and dude, fucking smack me, I'm turning into a girl."

Joey was happy to comply, and for a few minutes it was a relief to not think about Justin or Nick or anything but wrestling with Chris on the hard grinding rubber tread of the bus floor.

So Justin and Nick kept seeing each other, infrequently between appearances and tour dates and award shows, and there was more than one incident of Justin disappearing after an award presentation or something and reappearing fifteen minutes later red-mouthed and flushed, needing his makeup applied again. Joey didn't like it, didn't like it a lot, but there was no use talking to Justin.

JC had tried talking to Justin, in fact, and it was no good. Justin had lost it, started screaming about what the fuck was wrong with screwing someone in the industry, at least Nick understood the pressure of being a gay guy who had to hide it -- and JC had flinched and Joey'd seen his hand quiver, ready to slap Justin for that, to say nothing of Lance's clenched fists -- but Justin had stormed out of the arena's warmup room instead, ending the fight. He'd apologized later and JC had accepted it.

That night, though, he'd laid on Joey's hotel bed, head on Joey's shoulder, and shaken, muttering "that little fuck, how dare he, how fucking dare he," and Joey had held him, stroked his back until the shaking had passed. Joey knew it wasn't something Justin would normally say, they were words Nick had put in his mouth. Still, it was uncalled for.

The tour ended and they all scattered back to houses and apartments and wherever they survived when they weren't on a tour bus. Joey waited a week and then called Justin. He would have gone over to Justin's house, but he knew he couldn't be positive that he wouldn't catch Justin with Nick, and all things considered he didn't really want to go there.

Justin answered the phone after endless rings and slurred a sleepy greeting. Joey glanced at the clock: it was one in the afternoon. "You alone?" he asked.

"Why?" Justin was instantly defensive, which was all the answer Joey needed.

"Wanted to see if you wanted to grab lunch."

There was a long pause and some shuffling, fabric shifting, in the background, a muttered curse. Then, "yeah, sure. Where?"

Joey said, "My place. I'm cooking," and hung up. He'd thought of suggesting a restaurant, but between the hassle of getting security together, the likelihood of paparazzi, and the fact that a public environment would not make Justin less likely to shout, he just didn't feel like dealing.

He was finishing assembling hero sandwiches when Justin arrived. Justin looked like shit, hung over and exhausted. He hadn't looked like that a week ago. Joey just pushed a plate across the kitchen table to him.

"Drink?" Justin asked, and Joey grabbed cans of Coke for both of them. Justin scowled. They ate in silence, mostly, until Joey sat back and belched in satisfaction.

"That was fuckin' awesome, man," Justin said, wiping a napkin over his mouth.

"Thanks." Joey picked at some stray pieces of lettuce on his plate.

"So what's up? I know this ain't just 'cause you missed my face."

Joey sighed and looked up at Justin. "I'm worried about you."

Justin laughed, something nervous in it. "Why, man? I'm fine. 'Sall good."

"I don't know. You totally like disappeared this whole week. Chris says he's been workin' on his Madden skills and he'll kick your ass at it next time he sees you."

"I'd kick his ass anyway," Justin snorted.

"It's not just that, man." Joey leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. "I mean, I know you've got this thing with Nick going on and all, but--"

Justin's voice went cold. "It's not just a thing."

"Fine, it's not just a thing." Joey wondered if Nick felt the same way. "But it's starting to affect the group and that's not a good thing. Remember when you blew up at C? He's still kind of--"

"C's fine," Justin snapped, tone dismissive.

"You're being an asshole, Justin."

"What the fuck? I didn't come over here for this--"

"Sit the fuck down, man. I'm not attacking you."

"Sure sounds like it to me." Justin didn't sit back down; he gave Joey a sharp look, hostile, and grabbed his bucket hat where he'd tossed it on the kitchen counter. "You through bitching at me about Nick?"

"I'm not-- I swear to God, Justin, that's not what this's about." Joey stood as well, but Justin only backed away. "We're just worried--"

"Fine. Whatever. Duly noted. I gotta go, Mom's waitin' on me. Catch you later," and Justin took off down the hallway, the door slamming shut behind him a moment later. Joey numbly took the plates to the kitchen sink and washed them. He knew Lynn wasn't expecting Justin.

* * *

He was about ready to swear off having anything to do with Justin after that. Talking to Chris didn't help, either, because Chris was just as worried and upset, but tended to express it in wanting to go out and start bar fights with guys that were a lot bigger than him. Joey talked to Lance instead, who listened patiently and told him to wait, because sooner or later, it would blow up and Justin would need someone to be there for him when it did.

Three days later, the phone rang. Joey turned off the volume on the TV and dropped the remote, grabbed the phone without glancing at the caller ID. "Yeah?"

There was a long moment of silence in which Joey waited for the caller to respond, and just as he was about to thumb the phone off, sure it was yet another teenie that had somehow gotten the number and he'd have to get it changed again, there was a breathy voice. "Joe?"

Justin. Joey sat up, a frisson of ice racing down his spine. "What is it, J?"

"I." Another pause, a long sighing sound. "Can we meet for lunch?"

The element in Justin's voice was fear. Joey swore under his breath, then said, "Yeah, sure, J. Galli's? I'll make reservations."

"OK. One o'clock. And, uh, I might be. Fuck." Justin's laugh was high, with a nervous edge. "I might be followed."

"Shit! Justin, what the hell's--"

"I gotta go. One o'clock," Justin repeated, urgently, and hung up the phone. Joey absently dropped his hand from his ear, only then realizing that his fingers had dug into the receiver until he'd gone white-knuckled.

* * *

He made the reservations, showered, debated calling security and finally decided he'd better, just in case. Careful to phrase the request so that they wouldn't get too worried and maybe contact someone else, he finally just said that he'd appreciate it if two of them showed up. Randy grumbled but agreed to it, and at noon the car pulled up with both him and Tiny in the front seat.

At the restaurant, he was shown to a partially-concealed booth in the back, half-hidden from the rest of the patrons by a screen of flowers. Joey seated himself and watched as Tiny and Randy took a table nearby, close enough to see what was going on but not so close that they were terribly obvious. He still had half an hour before Justin was supposed to show, so he ordered a beer and waited.

Justin was fifteen minutes late; by then, Joey had seriously begun to doubt he was going to show at all and had promised himself five more minutes of waiting before he bailed. But then Justin appeared, following the hostess who was obviously trying not to exhibit her excitement over who she was leading to his table (Joey snorted to himself, as the selfsame hostess had shown nothing but boredom at seeing him). Joey cast a critical eye over Justin as he sat down; Justin looked ragged, worn thin, as if he hadn't been sleeping much in the past few days. He picked at the napkin wrapped around his utensils, stared at his fingers. Joey couldn't help but notice that Justin was wearing long sleeves.

"So what's up?" he asked without preamble.

"It's," Justin started, and then stopped, staring at his hands. A moment later, the waiter approached and began to rattle off a list of the day's specials. Joey ordered another beer and waved him away.

"What's going on, Justin?" Joey pitched his voice low, out of respect for Justin as much as anything else. "Talk to me."

"It's Nick." That much Joey had expected by now. "It's. He." Justin's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment and then he dropped his head, his cheeks flaring with high spots of color.

"Hey. It's OK. You can talk to me." Joey couldn't deny he was really worried, though, even though he figured he had a pretty good idea of what Justin was going to say.

They sat in silence for a few moments, hushed while the restaurant bustled around them. Joey glanced over to make sure Tiny and Randy were still in place; Randy nodded back at him, and he turned his attention back to Justin. The waiter came back, deposited the beer and asked them if they were ready to order; Joey mumbled his order, while Justin said he wasn't hungry and handed his menu over without another word. Once they were alone again, he took a deep breath; his arms slid off the table, around himself.

"So it's Nick," he said softly. "I thought. I thought having a boyfriend would be really cool, you know? It. We did stuff all the time, went out and hung out and it was really cool. Only." Justin dragged in a breath. "Lately it's like. He likes to do stuff. And he. He doesn't like me to leave. I only got away today because I told him my mom had been asking me why I hadn't come over to see her in a month."

Joey blanched; that was more than he'd been expecting. Justin reached up and shoved a hand through the tight curls plastered to his head, and his sleeve dropped back, revealing angry red marks around the wrist. Joey reached for Justin's hand before he could stop himself.

"Justin--"

Justin yanked his hand away, gave Joey a sullen look. "That's. I like it, OK? I like being tied up and handcuffed and shit. It. That's not the problem."

Joey shook his head, pushed his beer towards Justin, who snagged the bottle and drank, a long steady guzzle, his throat working until he finally set the bottle down and sighed. Joey reclaimed it just in time for the waiter to return, bearing a basket of bread which he set between them.

Once he'd gone again, Joey pushed the basket towards Justin. "Eat," he ordered, and Justin submitted, with a snort, buttering a roll and chewing on it. "Justin. Look, whatever you've got going on with him, it's not healthy. He's keeping you away from your family, from us. I'm hardly one to say that bondage is wrong, but when you're having sex with someone, it should be fun. It should be equal."

"Well, wh-what about those people that are, like, slaves and masters and stuff?" Justin retorted, but his eyes were dark with a mix of emotions: fear dominant over desperation, need. Joey made an absent note to strangle Nick Carter at the earliest opportunity.

"You're not one of those people," Joey replied, voice instinctively low. "Trust me," he added, seeing Justin ready to protest. "Don't ask how I know, OK? Just take my word for it. What you've got with Nick isn't that kind of thing, anyway. There's a lot more involved in that. Trust, for one thing."

"I trust him," but Justin sounded sullen now, and Joey reached across the table and laid a hand on Justin's arm.

"Do you really?"

Justin's eyes flicked up, the color of a midnight storm, and Joey bit his lip, held his gaze for long moments until Justin dropped his head to stare at the table.

"No," he whispered. "I'm. I don't want to be with him anymore, Joe, but when I said that he." Sudden clampdown on his words and Joey felt anger surge, red behind his eyes.

"I'll fucking kill him," he said in a voice that sounded too calm to be his own.

"You can't. Joey."

Joey dug his fingers into his thighs, under the table. "No," he sighed. "You're right, I can't. But I'm sure as fuck not letting him do this shit to you anymore."

Justin was silent for a long minute, and then he got up, rounding the table and sliding into the booth next to Joey. It was easy to put his arms around Justin, who buried his face in Joey's shoulder, shook silently; easy to murmur comforting words to him. His mind was racing the whole time.

* * *

"I'm not so sure -- Joey, I don't really need this stuff." Justin looked across at Joey, his eyes wide and a little panicky. "I mean, the clothes, I can replace them, it's not--"

"It is," Joey said succinctly. They were almost at Nick's house now; Joey had insisted on driving, and, reluctantly, the bodyguards had followed in a separate car, just in case. Joey was hoping it wouldn't come to that, but a part of him felt cool, calmly resigned to the prospect of violence, even looking forward to it.

Justin swallowed, stared ahead again. The car stopped in Nick's driveway and Joey shut it off, glancing over at Justin again. "Do you think anyone else will be there?"

"No," Justin said, quick and decisive. "He doesn't -- usually -- I mean, sometimes some of the other guys come over, but. Not right now."

"And what all of your stuff? Clothes?"

"There's a drawer, um. Some jewelry, some of my shoes. My toothbrush and stuff."

"That stuff, I'm not gonna worry about. Just your clothes and that, OK? We're just gonna go in and out, you're gonna tell him it's through, and if he starts anything, that's what I'm there for."

Justin's eyes were on his knees again, and Joey reached over, took Justn's hand. It was cold, and he rubbed the chilled fingers between his own, a soothing motion. It seemed to help; Justin looked back up at him, a little more hope in his eyes than had been there before, and he nodded, a quick sharp motion. "OK."

They were heading up the driveway, hedged by a high verge of bushes, when the door opened. "Security, he's got cameras," Justin murmured. Joey put a hand on Justin's shoulder and felt him shaking.

"You're so fuckin' brave for doing this," he said quietly. Justin threw him a sudden surprised look, and Joey smiled back at him. Out of reflex or real emotion, Justin smiled back, and then they were approaching the door. Nick stood in it, bare-chested, propping himself on the door frame with one arm, a bored look on his face.

"Was wondering what happened to you," Nick drawled. "Thought you said you were going to see Lynn."

"I'm here for my stuff," Justin said, and Joey felt a swell of pride at the evenness of his tone. "I'm just -- I want my clothes and stuff."

"Why?" Nick blinked, looking genuinely confused. "Dude, I gave you a drawer for a reason, you know? What's goin' on?" His gaze swung to Joey, who was fighting to keep his face neutral, his eyes level, even though the sight of Nick made his throat squeeze with anger.

"Nick, I." Justin swallowed hard. "Can we do this inside?"

"Sure," Nick said lazily and stepped back. "See you around, Fatone."

Joey's hand, still on Justin's shoulder, squeezed, and Justin shook his head. "He's not leaving. He's -- here with me."

Nick's eyes remained confused, a hint of obstinancy rising. "What the fuck you talkin' about, J? With you?"

"I'm his friend," Joey said, carefully. "That mean I'm not allowed in your house, Carter?"

Slowly, Nick shook his head. "'Course not. Come in." He swung an arm, deliberately wide, ushering them both inside. Joey kept his hand on Justin's shoulder as they stepped into the cool foyer, the walls bright and bare.

"So, uh. I'll just be a minute--"

"You're still not making sense, man. Is this -- Look, I don't really want to talk about this in front of him." Nick's voice had gone low and seductive, and Joey could see what had attracted Justin to him.

"I do." Justin pulled back from the hands that reached for him. "I don't want to be with you anymore, Nick."

"Baby, that's crazy talk. You know I love you." Nick stepped forward, close enough that Joey could see the calculating desire in his eyes, and touched Justin's cheek. Justin flinched backward.

Rage sprung hard in Joey's gut. "Step back, Carter."

Nick shot a look at Joey, but then wiped it away with a swift smile, raising his hands in a peacemaking gesture and taking a backwards step. "Fine, fine, since you're playing big brother. I don't want to make any trouble."

"Then let him get his stuff so we can get out of here."

Nick bit his lip, eyes narrowing. "I don't know what he said to you, but--"

"Jesus!" Justin swung suddenly, lunging at Nick, and Joey barely managed to grab at his arms to hold him back. "Will you stop fucking talking about me like I'm not even _here_?!" His voice was hysterical, and Nick's eyes went wide, face startled and not a little scared.

"Justin," Joey said, squeezing his arms. Justin swallowed, ducking his head, and shook himself free of Joey, but it was only so that he could take a step forward, glaring into Nick's eyes.

"This is over. You're not going to scare me anymore and I'm not going to let you tie me up and pretend it's what I want. You can't make me stay."

There was a long, tense moment, then, in which Joey felt every muscle in his body tense in preparation for Nick's next move; then, with a faint sigh, Nick stepped back, his shoulders slumping. "Fine. Yeah. Whatever."

Justin kept his eyes fixed on Nick's face for a few more seconds, then turned to Joey, dismissal evident in every line of his body. "Come on, let's go get my stuff."

Joey was a little appalled to see how few clothes Justin actually kept in the drawer in Nick's bedroom; Justin mumbled something about not wearing clothes a lot while he was there, and Joey fought down the dull anger that had settled into an aching ball in his stomach. He gathered Justin's shoes from the closet instead, while Justin tucked necklaces and earrings carefully into his shirt pocket, and then Justin scooped up a couple of books from the night stand and added them to his pile of clothes. "That's it," he said. "Let's, let's go."

At the bedroom door, Joey paused, and Justin glanced back at him, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Joe?"

"Nothing," Joey said; then he shook his head, smiling. Justin was standing taller already, the weight lifted from his shoulders. "You, you were great, the way you handled him. I'm proud of you."

A little smile quirked Justin's mouth. "Thanks," he said, and then headed for the stairs.

Nick was standing in the foyer when they came back, leaning on the wall with a cellphone pressed to his ear. He murmured something quiet and closed it as Justin headed towards the door.

"J," he said.

"No, Nick." Justin didn't even turn, just kept walking.

"Just. Just let me say goodbye."

"I don't want you to touch me," Justin said, and his voice was low and cold. "I don't want you to ever come near me again. If you do, I don't-- I can't guarantee what I'll do."

"Fuck you," Nick whispered, and Joey froze. "Fuck you, you little bitch. You wanted it. You said you--"

"He didn't want to be fucking kidnapped and tied up, you fucking asshole," Joey snapped. "There's a difference between -- between what normal people do and what you did to him, and you fucking know it--"

He wasn't expecting the fist, but he managed to roll anyway, shoes falling out of his hands, and Nick's knuckles clipped his ear instead of his jaw. Joey took a stumbling step back and then forward again, even as Nick was grabbing at Justin's arm; it was easiest to tackle, so he did, slamming his shoulder into Nick's body to force him away. They fetched up against the wall and Joey stood up, grabbed Nick's shoulders and shoved him back against the wall again, so hard he thought he heard Nick's teeth rattle.

"You ever fucking touch him again and _I'll_ kill you," Joey said, and Nick's frightened eyes were all the acknowledgement he needed. With a final shove, he let go of Nick, stepping backwards until he was sure that Nick wouldn't come at him again, and bent to collect Justin's shoes.

They made it outside and to the car in silence; Justin dumped his clothes in the back seat, then, with a gasp, pulled at Joey, seemingly uncaring that his arms were still full of shoes. "Just a second," Joey laughed, tossing his armful into the car, and then he let Justin hug him, rubbed his back with strong hands while Justin hiccuped against his shoulder.

"I can't believe, I can't believe I did that. Fuck," he mumbled, and Joey smiled and pressed kisses into Justin's hair, even though he knew full well he shouldn't, not outside, not where anyone could see. He didn't want to let go of Justin, but when Justin pulled back, he let go, ruffling a hand over his curls.

"Let's get you home, huh?" he suggested.

"Yeah," and Justin grinned.

As they got into the car, Joey felt Justin's eyes on him, and he knew he was grinning, too, and hoped it was for the same reason Justin was.


End file.
